


One Night With The Woman

by fablock



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Molly is totally over Sherly, My First Work in This Fandom, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fablock/pseuds/fablock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irene and Molly have been spending some time together getting over that mad bastard Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night With The Woman

It had been a lovely meal, all soft candle light and gourmet food. Not too heavy, not too rich. Expensive, but then, this was Irene's treat. Not that Molly couldn't afford it, but.. well, Irene could afford it easily. When the cheque arrived, Molly had blushed almost the colour of Irene's shoe soles, and when Irene smiled and paid without the slightest hesitation, Molly glowed like Irene's bright lipstick. The meal, the hotel, the whole night had been entirely her style. Molly would have been happy watching girly films in their pjs and eating cookie dough. But tonight had been lovely. Grand, and a month ago Molly would have felt ridiculously out of place, but Irene had a way of relaxing Molly, making her feel at home, even amongst grandeur and fancy things. It was beautiful though, Molly could see why Irene liked it. Red velvet curtains held back by black swirled iron hold backs, plush carpets that reminded her of her cats belly, white polished marble and gleaming glass. The entire place smelled vaguely of burning wood, due to the huge fireplaces crackling away. It was extravagant certainly, and almost reminded her of Sher- no. No, this was  _their_ night. Girls only, no rude detectives allowed. ~~No matter how gorgeous.~~

Perching on the end of the bed, Molly strokes her fingers over the seam on the silk sheets. "This place is so lovely, Irene," she calls. "How on Earth did you find it?". "What darling?" Irene pops her head round the door, hair brushing her angular face and falling down to one shoulder. In the bright white light of the bathroom, her pale skin looked almost illuminating, contrasting her blood red lips and dark eyebrows, her blue eyes bright, popping. "Molly?" "Oh, um, nothing, it doesn't matter," she says, voice light and high and a little rushed. "I'll only be a moment," calls Irene, leaving the door ajar. Molly starts speaking about how she's having a lovely night, despite feeling a little out of place amongst all the 'fancyness'. "Sherlock would love a place like this. He'd go on about how the décor matched his suits, and what pet the waiter had, and the archaeologists favourite colour or something!"

She returns a moment later and places a finger on Molly's lips, smiling at her startled expression. "For tonight, lets forget about mad detectives who don't appreciate beautiful women". She sits besides her on the Kingsize bed, fingers stroking her hair. They look a picture, both still made up in elegant make-up, jewelry, and pajamas, their dresses hung up in the wardrboe for the night. Irene wore hers naturally, comfortably, now reclining on the bed as she plays with Molly's hair, whereas Molly had sat little, small as she does now, brushing nothing off her pastel Kitty pajamas. She feels a hundred times more comfortable than in her dress, though - tight-fitting, a little wedding-y, but very classy. And very expensive. Irene's choice, of course. It took a whole lunch date and some champagne to convince Molly to let Irene get it for her. All night she'd been worrying about spilling something on it, how she looked in it.

"You need to relax, love," Irene's hand runs down Mollys back, rubbing her softly through her dress, pulling her closer and starting to massage the knots out her backs. Molly relaxes into the touch, 'mm'ing softly. After a while, she shifts, eyes sleepy, body languid, and faces Irene. Her hair shines in the moonlight streaming through the window, and Molly wonders how long she was getting a massage. "Your hands are magic,' smiles Molly, before pausing a moment, stricken. She didn't- did that sound-

Irene's laughter is loud and beautiful, ringing out, her wide eyes sparkling, her pointed pink tongue visible among perfect-set white teeth behind her deep red lips. Molly knew that the woman she'd been out with was beautiful, flawless, gorgeous, but it was as if she was finally realising. Taking a breath, Molly quickly presses her lips against Irene's. It's a little too hard, and too rushed, and Molly really wishes that wasn't their first kiss. By the end of the night, Molly can hardly remember her own name, nevermind their first kiss. And Sherlock bloody Holmes is certainly out of her mind.

"I, I erm, I'm sorry, I, I should go, I-"

"Don't you dare," purrs Irene, taking Molly's hand. She pauses, cupping Molly's face in her hand, and slowly moves in for a kiss. Slow, gentle, pressing her luscious lips against Mollys, the perfect amount of pressure. After a moment, Molly's hands reach up and lace through Irene's hair, pulling gently as if she can't get close enough. Their tongues entwine, Irene's slipping past Molly's pink lips, prompting a small squeal and a jerk forward. Molly drags one hand down Irene's back, pulling her in closer until she can feel her heartbeat; it's quickened pace as the kiss intensifies. Her own _thud-thud_  is so loud she's surprised Irene can't hear it, surprised the patrons in the lounge downstairs aren't dancing along to it. Irene's hand moves behind Molly's head, hitching up her own dress to straddle Molly and slowly lie her down. Molly's heart must be a thousand decibels by now.

Irene's weight on top of her is slight, comfortable, wonderful. Her breasts press down against Molly's, nipples hard and peaking slightly through her thin nightdress. Her fingers brush up the smooth skin of Molly's thigh, and she squirms slightly at the lightness of the touch. Her fingers fumble blindly at Irene's hips, trying to find her pants to slip off. Irene laughs softly, pulling back, and hitches up her nightdress to show she's wearing none. "We're certainly forward,".

Scarlet is perhaps not deep enough a shade to describe Molly's face. Irene leans down and brushes a kiss to Mollys warm cheek. She unbuttons Mollys top, slow and deliberate, kissing her stomach as she does so. Her tongue drags up her side, making Molly giggle, until she reaches Molly breasts with her mouth, lapping her pointed tongue across her nipple, fingers dancing up and down her sides. Moving down, she kisses Molly's waistline, hips, bites gently, as she slides off Molly's shorts, her hair brushing against sensitive skin.

Now naked, Molly feels vulnerable, the old familair embarrassment creeping up, and she closes her legs and tensions invades her body once more, and she rolls over. "Molly? Do you want this?". Whining, Molly rolls over and breathes hard. "Yes," "Thank God. I was getting worried what I felt was unrequited". Their lips crash together, hard and bruising, and when they pull back, panting, their lips are swollen. Irene grins, and moves quickly, opening Molly's legs and planting a huge kiss on her clit. Molly gasps, and Irene just winks. "And boys say it's so hard to find,". She smiles devilishly, fingers roaming, nails lighting dragging down thighs, teasing with her tongue. Irene takes her time with Molly, but before long, all shyness is gone and Molly is writhing with the pleasure of such sweet torture. Molly's heart must have stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a Sherlock fic, so obviously it would be a smutty one-shot. Not been beta'd or proof-read so apologies for any mistakes!


End file.
